Fire Never Meant to Bow

The mirror bends beneath the strain,

A thousand masks to hide the flame.

Not broken, just redrawn too thin,

A stranger breathing from within.

A laugh held back to quiet a room,

A dream left still, to make more room.

Each piece tucked deep, out of the way,

Until the light begins to fray.

Be softer, smaller, sweet but dim,

Reshape the voice, retrain the limbs.

Love grows cold when built to fit,

What once was fire turns counterfeit.

The spark was never meant to bow,

Nor shame the softness carved in vow.

No need to change to feel enough,

Just grow the roots from what was tough.